Deception

FIFTY

‘Employ undisciplined thugs and that’s what you get, in my experience.’ Paulton was uneasy at the news of the abortive attempt at lifting Jean Fleming. They should have had her by now. And Tate, too, as he would have galloped to her rescue like an eager bloodhound, no doubt about it. Instead it had fallen apart, following on from the widely circulated news of a terrorist attack on London’s Brixton police station, resulting in the deaths of two officers and the serious wounding of several others. No group had claimed outright responsibility for the raid, but two or three were hinting at it in an attempt to gain credibility. As a separate issue, news of a late night police raid on a house belonging to the Bosnian community in the east of the city was just filtering out, although Paulton had already heard the latest details from a contact in London with connections to the Metropolitan Police.

He, Deakin and Turpowicz had relocated once more while awaiting developments in London and the search for Lieutenant Tan. This time they had moved from Nurnberg to a conference centre hotel near Ghent, in Belgium. Groups of businessmen were the norm here, and the three of them would pass unnoticed amid the comings and goings of corporate parties and trade delegations. The grounds were extensive, encompassing a large lake surrounded by woods, and guaranteed privacy. But it was also close enough to major roads should they need a rapid evacuation, something Paulton had insisted on.

Colin Nicholls had not joined them. He had retreated further into the background, claiming to be busy scouting for Tan and checking on other deserters. It left the other three to look after the current business, a move openly welcomed by Deakin. His irritation with his colleague had been growing more evident, and he had begun to voice his impatience with Nicholls’ lack of energy and his reluctance to trade on the skills of the people passing through their hands. It had been slowing down his own plans to take the Protectory up a level and place it on a more commercial footing, something which had attracted Paulton to join him in the first place.

‘They’ve never missed before,’ Deakin muttered. He was staring into space, unsettled by the repeat failure of his two Bosnian guns.

‘Perhaps because they’ve never previously delegated the work you pay them for to people with no experience. Did they even get inside her flat?’

‘Yes, but something had alerted her. She’d disappeared and left the door open.’

Paulton lifted an eyebrow. ‘Really? It allows them in but they don’t break anything in the process. Clever move.’

Deakin looked sour. ‘Isn’t it just? Are you sure this Fleming woman doesn’t have training? Only it was odd she should bug out just before they arrived.’

‘She most likely saw ’em coming, that’s why,’ growled Turpowicz. He had said little after hearing of the latest setback. ‘Those guys blend into the background like a pair of silverbacks in a toy store.’

‘Cut the sniping, will you?’ Deakin snapped. ‘I hear you — you don’t like Zubac and Ganic. I get that. But they have their uses.’ He slumped back in his chair, chewing his lip in frustration.

‘If you recall,’ Paulton put in smoothly, before Turpowicz could argue back and escalate matters, ‘the whole idea was to draw Tate out by threatening his girlfriend. Then they could have dealt with him. We’ve now lost that advantage. Tate will have moved her to a safe house and he’ll be on his guard against further attacks.’

‘So what do we do?’ asked Deakin.

Paulton hesitated before replying. He’d been disappointed at Deakin’s reliance on the Bosnians and their decision to involve others without consultation first. That was where Deakin lacked management experience, in his opinion. Maybe he’d been out of the army command structure too long. He should have insisted on the two Bosnians being the only ones in play. That way any exposure through mistakes, such as using amateurs, was minimal, as was the trail back to Deakin and himself. ‘We try again, only sooner rather than later. Perhaps the last method was too sophisticated for your pet thugs. I suggest we use them to make a more direct assault and get Tate out of the picture for good so we can get on with business.’

‘Direct?’ Deakin looked uncertain. ‘How direct?’

‘The surest way to defeat an enemy is to hit them when they least expect it.’

‘Which is?’

‘Tate’s a soldier, with a soldier’s mind-set. After a win, the victors invariably let their defences down. It’s human nature. With a man like Harry Tate, it’s ingrained. He won’t expect us to try again so soon.’

Turpowicz sat up, his face showing understanding. ‘Harry? Harry? Christ, I knew it. You’ve had this guy Tate tagged from the moment you saw his face. You do know him!’

Paulton wanted to bite his tongue. He’d said too much, allowed his need to exert some control over the situation to take over. However, he had survived worse verbal calamities in tougher company than these two men. He recovered and spread his arms with barely a break in his stride. ‘Mea culpa, gentlemen, mea culpa. I admit it, I fibbed a little, if only because it didn’t seem relevant at the time.’ He held up both hands to ward off their protests. ‘Let me explain. Please. Tate used to work for me. He’s no more a warrant officer than I am — he’s a former MI5 officer who was discharged in disgrace.’ He sniffed. ‘A little shooting incident which killed two civilians and a police officer.’

‘So why’s he still working for the government?’ Turpowicz demanded.

‘Because he’s deniable, Mr Turpowicz. If anything goes wrong. . well, he’s not on the books and nobody knows he exists.’ He stared hard at the American who was looking ready to argue. ‘Isn’t that what Blackwater was all about with their security contractors? Sorry — Xe, I believe they now like to be called. Strange name, but that’s PR for you.’

‘Tate was one of yours?’ Deakin was staring at him. ‘Christ, George, you promised me you were clean. . that they’d forget all about you. That’s why I agreed to let you on board. There’s no risk, you said. Now you’ve got an intelligence operative on your tail! Where the hell does that put us?’

‘Actually, that’s not what Tate’s doing.’ Paulton’s voice dropped a level, pitched deliberately low so that the two men were forced to listen. He was surprised they could be manipulated so easily in this way. Even so, he was on a knife’s edge and knew it. If he didn’t convince them very quickly that he had some control of the situation, they might easily decide to cut their losses and turn against him. ‘I’m reliably informed,’ he continued firmly, ‘that he was taken on by the MOD for one job and one job only — and that was to look for Lieutenant Tan. Tate’s strictly freelance; a contractor. They do it all the time when they’re short of manpower.’

‘That’s supposed to make us feel better?’ Deakin didn’t sound mollified. His body language was tight, his movements betraying his impatience and a need to take action.

Paulton continued quickly, ‘Tate’s a plodder and always was. He follows orders but he’s no great strategic thinker. Tan was clearly judged to be too high a value asset to leave out there, so they called in Tate to go after her and bring her in. . something he has been singularly unsuccessful in doing, let me remind you.’

‘You’d better be right about that. We’ve managed to stay below the radar for a long time now; I’d hate to find I was suddenly exposed because you were top of the Security Service’s wanted list.’

‘I wouldn’t be too happy, either,’ Turpowicz added darkly. ‘Which makes me wonder why you’re talking about taking him out. Surely that’ll make them mad enough to come after us?’

Paulton smiled. They were coming round, albeit slowly. ‘Precisely the opposite. Too much trouble at a time when the MOD is already under scrutiny over lavish spending, equipment shortfalls and desertion rates, and they’ll shut down the operation and focus their efforts elsewhere. Believe me, I know the way the drones in Whitehall and the Security Services think. Jumped-up bean counters, most of them; they don’t have the stomach for trouble unless it’s publicly or politically popular — and hunting down deserters has never been either of those. Half the population doesn’t care about soldiers on the run and the other half doesn’t want to know. Not the right form, y’know.’

‘All right.’ Deakin stood up, shrugging off his earlier mood. ‘So how do we get this bugger off our backs once and for all?’

Paulton looked satisfied at having got them both onside. ‘Simple. I’ll give you the home address of Tate’s protege, a man named Ferris. All you have to do is get your men ready. Only this time, no subcontracting the job out to kids or hoping to catch Tate in a drive-by shooting. This is warfare, not a gang-bangers’ spray-fest. Lift Ferris — he’s an IT button pusher, so he’ll be no problem — and Tate will follow. He’s too much of a white knight to leave Ferris out there. When he moves in, your thugs kill them both and we’ve got a clear field to carry on our work.’

Deakin looked unconvinced. ‘But that will expose Zubac and Ganic. Tate will be looking for them.’

Paulton’s response was cool. ‘Sadly, yes. But that’s what they’re for, isn’t it — to take the risks? After all, better they go down than we do.’